Grey Comfort
by wishinonastar
Summary: BL .I hope youre not going to tear that apart. She stopped dead, not daring to turn around yet knowing exactly who the voice behind her belonged to. Because I really love that hoody.ONESHOT. alternate ending to 109


_Hey everyone! Another oneshot :S_

_This is basically an alternate ending to 109, because I've always hated the fact that Lucas never chose between the two, not really. So of course, this is BL, and keeping reading for their happy ending :D Thanks soo much to Lynn for ALL of your help with this, I really couldn't have done it without you._

_And finally, this is for **Ellie**, you know why :D …_

**Grey Comfort**

_(Because what would have happened if he'd been able to choose?)_

Her heart stopped beating as she heard the door of Lucas' room open, and the sound of her best friend's voice echoing down the corridor.

She should have made her presence known in that moment; she knew it at the time and she knew it in hindsight. But she had wanted to know what would happen, and whether this emotional connection between Lucas and Peyton really meant anything. All Brooke had wanted was some form of reassurance that it was her that Lucas liked, and that there was nothing anyone else could do or say to change that. Brooke had never been one for believing in herself; the only way she could ever think she was good enough was when she was having sex. Sex was painless and emotionless. It was exactly what she needed after the days at school when she felt nothing more than lonely. Yes, she had Peyton and their relationship was set in stone, but that was basically it. Peyton was all she had, and her curly haired blonde best friend had her own life to lead, one which had it's own fair share of drama.

When Brooke met Lucas, things had suddenly begun to change. Instead of immediately wanting to rip off his clothes and her own, she felt like she would prefer to talk the night away; to share her soul in a way she never thought possible. She had tried to give him an insight into the way her world worked. She had no idea whether she had succeeded, or whether the words of Peyton Sawyer would change the little progress that she thought she had made. But her best friend wouldn't do that to her, right? Brooke tried desperately to believe that all Peyton was doing was returning a cd that she had borrowed. Which brought even more of Brooke's insecurities into play. Lucas was the first guy she thought that she could ever have feelings for, but she simply didn't know if he felt the same way. She didn't know if she was pretty enough - because let's face it, Peyton always had been and always would be blonder and thinner than Brooke; she didn't know whether she was smart enough, because she hadn't read any of the books that he had, apart from the one that she had read in their little pact…

Brooke thought back to their date and sighed. She tried to get the idea out of her head that he would never have kissed her had he not been drunk. She was desperate not to believe it. She didn't know how many hits she could take before she was out of the dating game for real, and the only thing that cold keep her going was the no strings attached sex that the sleazy bars and just as sleazy men gave her. Then it would become an addiction rather than a habit she had. Brooke was disgusted with herself that it actually had become a habit that it seemed she could not break. Who was sad enough that sex had become such a permanent fixture in their lives that it became meaningless; who was pathetic enough to try and place themselves in a time long ago when sex had actually been fun.

The answer was obviously, her.

And she had always hated that it was. It was one of the main reasons that she had tried to pursue Lucas. It wasn't like she was using him - she had been used enough times in her life to know that it was a despicable thing to do. Yet she could really see him as being the person who could break her free of the stereotype that she had created, in all honesty, for herself. Nobody would think of her as a slut, call her a slut, or treat her like a slut had she not done something in the first place to deserve it. The truth was, she had, but not in the way that people would think and definitely not in the way people remembered.

It had been during the lead up to the first day of high school that Brooke had begun to feel sick at the thought of it. She had been the Queen Bee of Junior High without having to do much - just stand looking pretty with her little denim skirt and cropped top, kissing boys on the cheek when they asked her nicely, or gave her sweets. Brooke thought wryly to herself; she had basically been a prostitute then, so what made her think that she could change now? But still, the little Brooke had been so petrified of losing everything she had that she dragged Peyton down to the mall (a regular occurrence) however instead of heading straight for the young teen section of the stores, she headed straight for the provocative clothes which she knew all the older girls wore.

That was how it started. The first day of school, the insecure and terrified Brooke on the inside had been covered by expensive new clothes and a bitchy smirk on the outside. This gave everybody an immediate idea about her and at that time was one that she was not willing to shed. She had loved all the attention they lavished on her at that point; it was just goddamn unlucky that she hadn't known what she would feel like just a couple of years down the line.

Brooke's train of thought was interrupted once again by Peyton's voice, and she realised that she had managed to catch the beginning of the conversation. She just couldn't bear to think what she might hear next. She tuned in once more to hear Peyton begin a speech, one that Brooke had no idea what repercussions it would bring.

"Lucas, I made a mistake. When you said you wanted to be with me I got, I got scared and I pushed you away but-" Lucas interrupted the girl and Brooke felt her heart try to start beating again.

"Peyton-" Brooke wished that he would finish his sentence, that he would tell Peyton that Brooke was only in the other room, that he had already chosen her.

"But, the truth is I want all the same things that you want, I do. And I want them with you." Brooke held her breath, wondering how her best friend could do something like this to her. Peyton was supposed to know her better than anybody. Peyton knew that Brooke kept things to herself; she knew that whenever things came good for Brooke, she would keep them to herself for fear of losing them. Her blonde best friend had always been so good at reading her, she had no idea why this had been any different. She hadn't realised that she was still holding in her lungs; and knowing that she simply couldn't, she let it go with one choked breath. She still hadn't heard anything coming from the room next door, and the walls were thin. Brooke would have been able to hear if anything had happened.

She could just imagine the brooding stares they would be giving each other. It would be one that she herself would never see aimed at her. Because it was becoming more and more prominent in Brooke's mind that Lucas did not feel the same way about her as she did with him. They had always had some weird emotional and deep connection between them - Peyton and Lucas that was - and Brooke was beginning to wonder whether she was naïve in thinking that she could ever so much as put a dent into it. Brooke placed her ear back up against the wall. She was in two minds. She didn't want either of the two blondes in the room next door to notice she was there; that was pathetic. Yet she also desperately wanted Lucas to remember that she was actually there, in his house. It had been the two of them together, and they had been having such an amazing, sweet and simple time before Peyton had managed to intrude on them.

"Peyton-" Brooke knew that this was going to be the make or break time for her. She wanted to walk through the open door, she knew that she had to walk through the open door and make herself known. Even though she couldn't see him, she could imagine her picture fading from his brain, being replaced by a much blonder image. She willed her legs to move; she didn't really have to do anything, just goddamn move into the room. She didn't have to even speak, she just had to make her presence known.

But she couldn't.

She didn't know whether it was that she was scared, or she simply wanted to see what Lucas would do. Yet again, any thoughts of what might happen next were interrupted by Peyton's voice, and what inevitably would happen next.

"Lucas, I know we have something. And I know, or at least I hope, that you feel it too. Because I really, really think that we could have something special. It's always been us, hasn't it? It's been written in the stars and whatever. It was always meant to be us." There was a long silence that Brooke wished could be filled with something, anything, and she desperately hoped for him to say something, and for some kind of a miracle to occur.

"Yeah. Yeah it was."

The thread of hope she was so desperately clinging to vanished from her clutches. Stupid it may be, but Brooke felt like her entire world was falling down. She was as well, as her legs gave way beneath her and she crumpled to the ground. Never before had she gone from feeling so high to feeling so low in such a short amount of time. She pulled the huge hoody further around her to try and enclose her, to hide her so that nobody could ever come close to her again. Because every time somebody did; she was the fucking clueless one who got hurt. Every single time.

First there were her parents. She hadn't really had any choice with whether she wanted to get close to them. They were her idols in every single aspect of life when she was young. Her mother was beautiful; chestnut hair, hazel eyes… she looked identical to Brooke apart from the one trait Brooke had inherited from her father - his dimples. She had always looked up to her mother because of the way she could look and be so perfect yet be such an amazing mom at the same time. And her daddy, well, Brooke had been wishing for one of their talks for almost ten years. She could remember it as though it was yesterday however; that last time they had a talk together. He had always called her into his study when he was working, and then sat little Brooke on his knee. She had always loved that room. It was one of those with wood panels all the way up to the ceiling; with one wall which was completely covered in books which Brooke knew she would never read. In any case, their talks about anything and everything, and her father trying to teach her about things in the real world had meant the world to her when she was young. They had quickly fizzled out until they were no longer a fixture in her life but then again, neither were her parents. They had hurt her so badly, they had affected the way she acted ever since. No-one could say it was healthy for a nine year old child to be left alone with their nanny for eleven and a half months of every year. Because it simply wasn't.

There was only one girl who had ever been able to get through to her on the subject of her parents, and her name was Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer. Friends forever, the two of them had always been tight, even though in reality the two of them were so different from the other. Somehow it had worked. Whilst Peyton was lying on her bed, drawing angst filled pictures on her bed, Brooke was sat right beside her painting her toenails. They also had a pact; they each got to choose what album they would listen to alternately. This was often a puzzling feature of the Sawyer household for their neighbours. One minute they could be hearing something such as Jimi Hendrix or the Arctic Monkeys blaring out of the windows, and the next, a new tune from Justin Timberlake or classics from the Backstreet Boys. But there was hardly ever a time when it didn't work - only once did Peyton ban a Mandy Moore cd from gracing her stereo and only about once a day did Brooke complain she was going to slit her wrists due to the depressing music. Peyton had always known what was wrong with Brooke, and when she was happy. Or excited, as the case was when she had talked to her earlier. Which is why Brooke was so hurt now; had Peyton known that Brooke liked Lucas, but just gone ahead and snatched him away anyway? There was a saying, "you don't know what you've got till it's gone." Brooke guessed it was true, but she hated it. If you've rejected somebody or let it go, you can't just take it back. It simply wasn't right.

And then the person who had probably hurt her the most of all in the last five minutes. Lucas Scott. Maybe it was wrong to have put him on a pedestal but she had honestly thought he would be better than every other guy she had met before. But was she completely stupid? If her own father had let her down then obviously every guy in the world would too. Brooke hated that she had fallen so deep so quickly. She shouldn't have been feeling the way she was about Lucas. It had been such a small amount of time. She guessed that since she had never let herself be her own person in front of a guy, when she finally did and decided he liked what he saw, she fell hard and she fell fast. It was unlucky that it was only now that she realised he couldn't have liked what he saw inside of her, not at all.

She could feel the tears falling sharply down her face but knew there was simply nothing that she could do to stop them. Instead, she came to the conclusion that she had to get out, get out of Lucas' house. She had no idea what Lucas and Peyton were doing anymore, whether it be talking or… Brooke couldn't bear to think about it with her being just one wall away. How could Lucas be such a prick? How could he forget so quickly that she was in his fucking kitchen? He was just like every other guy, except he was worse; he pretended to be the nice guy and it made the girls, or at least her, fall for it hook, line and sinker. All she knew at that moment was that she must look even more pathetic than she felt and so she needed to get out before one of them inevitably saw her.

She ran down the corridor and wrenched open the front door. She realised that she had never used it before, she had always entered through Lucas' side door. She guessed it must have been symbolic.

Not caring how hard the door slammed shut, or how much the walls of the house shook, Brooke fled, leaving the boy she thought could have finally changed her well and truly behind her.

-

She hated the hoody she was wearing. It simply reminded her of him, and with it being only one hour since she had run from his house, the tears hadn't yet stopped falling. There was no way that she could take it off either. Ridiculous as it sounded, the hoody smelt of Lucas and in that moment there was nothing Brooke wanted more than to be wrapped up in his arms. Because then she knew that she would feel safe. She wouldn't be surviving on this precarious edge; her shoulders constantly shaking from the sobs that travelled through her shoulders and around her whole body. She hated the fact that she had "Keith Scott Body Shop" emblazoned across her back, yet it oddly was the only comfort she could gain from the situation. She lay on her side upon her bed, trying to wipe away each tear furiously; yet each time she brushed one away, another would simply take it's place. Brooke didn't know why she was crying so much, well, that was a lie - of course it was because of Lucas - but she didn't know why she was hurting to such an extent.

Brooke Davis never cried. She could only remember crying about three times in her life time, the worst being when her parents left her for the first time. Clinging to her father's legs she begged him not to leave her; it was her ballet recital the next day. What she didn't realise was that instead of just being a little late, like he had promised, he would only come back 27 days later, returning to an already changing Brooke.

But now, now the tears were free falling and her silk white cushions were becoming dyed with black mascara. And there was simply nothing she could do about it. The softness of the grey fabric enclosed her and she tried to think of a happy memory. It scared her to death that she couldn't.

All that she had were of her childhood, which involved her parents - something that Brooke didn't want to think about for fear of becoming even more distraught, before she tried to calculate how long it was exactly since her parents had contacted her. Then there were her early teenage years onwards with Peyton, but Peyton was also a person that she didn't want to be thinking about at that moment. And then there was the final happy thought that had sprung into Brooke's memory. It had occurred just a few hours before when everything had seemed like it was going well in her life.

She was lying on Lucas' bed with his arms wrapped firmly around her. She was cold, but there was no way that she wanted to move an inch from the position she was in - it felt so right. She felt a shiver run through her, although she had no idea it was because of the freezing temperature the room was at or the way Lucas' index finger was rubbing smooth circles on her wrist.

"Are you okay, Brooke?" She looked up at him and gave his brooding face and eyes a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, of course. I'm just a little cold, that's all." She smiled up at him once more until her face fell as she felt him move beneath her. "No no, don't leave me Broody! I'll be even colder then!" He chuckled at her, and swiftly took off the hoody that he was wearing. He threw it gently at her and she smirked when she realised that he had given up his prized hoody, just for her. She quickly slipped it over her head but then once more became lost in thought.

"Brooke, you're being broody. What's wrong?" He feigned shock and she gave him a sarcastic glare that made him raise his hands in the air in defence.

"I was just thinking, now I have your hoody, and you're in that oh so sexy wife beater, won't you get a little cold?" He grinned at her and then made his way toward her, lifting her up and moving the covers out from beneath her. She squealed at the sudden movement but then calmed as he put her down, feeling completely at peace when he climbed into the bed next to her.

It had been the first time she had lain in a bed with somebody and not felt the pressure, or the need to do anything else. It simply wasn't needed between the two of them. Although maybe, that was all he had wanted in the first place. It could have been the reason that he ended up with Peyton.

That hoody had made her feel so special. She had no idea why, but she thought it might have to do with the fact that she had never worn guy's clothing before. At least, not when he had given it to her in order to keep her warm. Usually, she had just worn guy's clothes because she had to, early in the morning when people almost walked in on her and whatever boy she had in bed with her.

But she thought that that had all changed as she lay in the grey hoody. Clearly, she was very wrong.

In that moment, her desperation turned to anger, the tears becoming hot and fiery on her face as she ripped off the jumper. She threw it down onto the bed as she pulled herself up, rifling through her drawers looking for a pair of scissors, not caring that all of her possessions were being strewn about in the process. That didn't matter. Hurting that fucking grey hoody was all that mattered. Brooke wasn't stupid. She knew that you couldn't hurt a piece of fabric. What she did know however was that Lucas loved it. And anything he loved, she wanted to destroy. She let out a cry of triumph as she finally found some scissors to tear through the worn fabric. Brooke lifted the scissors to the material but then stopped.

Could she really do it? Maybe it was something too drastic to do. It was probably the sort of thing that psychos did. But in that moment, all Brooke wanted to do was get Lucas Scott the hell out of her mind and to do that, she knew she had to get rid of anything that was his. They hadn't exactly been 'together' long enough for any of his possessions to have turned up in her room, so this was all she had. This was the one piece of power she had, and even if it was simply over a stupid scrap of fabric, it was still something.

"I hope you're not going to tear that apart." She stopped dead, not daring to turn around yet knowing exactly who the voice belonged to. The scissors still were held steadfast in her hand, not changing the centimetre gap that lay between the blade and the material. "Because I really love that hoody."

She laughed. It probably wasn't the right situation to and she could tell that he was shocked by it, due to the silence from behind her; yet it seemed befitting. It obviously wasn't a happy laugh. More of a chuckle, a sarcastic one at that. Mainly, it was a laugh that was empty, hollow and alone.

"Surprisingly Lucas, right now I don't give a fuck about you, or this sweater, hoody, whatever the hell this thing is." She reached up once again with the scissors and held her breath, ready to snip through the cloth.

"Wait-" Lucas cut in, holding his arms up in resignation. "You can do anything, but please, please don't touch the hoody." He laughed, and her fear about cutting him out of her life changed suddenly to anger.

He was shocked at the way she looked at him; he honestly hadn't expected to see pain in her eyes. He could see how she was feeling, and he could see right into her as well. She knew that he was confused, and she didn't see how he had the audacity to.

"You really have no idea, do you?"

The deafening silence threatened to take over the two of them. She couldn't believe that he was acting completely clueless.

"What are you talking about Brooke? You left, I came to see you, and you just, blow up like this. Yeah, of course I have no idea what's going on!"

She snapped.

"You mean you don't know the reason why I left? You weren't there when Peyton told you she still wanted you and you agreed, with me in the next room?! The next room Lucas-!" It was his turn to cut through her, and she was taken aback by it to say the least. Lucas had never been the one to take control, to be the 'loud' one in their relationship; or whatever they had going on.

"You really want to know what went on?" She bit her lip, and nodded slowly; hoping that somehow whatever he said next would make everything better. "Yeah, Peyton came over. And for that one moment in time I seemed to forget about you. But you have to understand how long I've wanted Peyton. I can't even remember a time when I didn't. So when she came telling me all this stuff, my head; well, I wasn't thinking straight. All I knew was that my dreams of so long were finally coming true. I did say that it had always been me and her but then I heard the door slam and another thing occurred to me. You. You came into my life and somehow made everything better, you and your wild ways and your dimpled smile… I was just about to tell her everything: But then she kissed me. I swear, I didn't want it to happen. As soon as she did it I realised that it's your kisses which make me weak at the knees, and it was you who I wanted standing next to me in my bedroom, doing all he goofy things we do. I told her. I told her everything. It's not me and her; I thought it was, but it isn't. She was just the girl who led me to you."

Her eyes brimmed with tears and he desperately hoped that he had gotten through to her, at least slightly. The silence almost killed him, but he knew that she was just thinking about her next actions, wondering what she would do.

That was the reason he hadn't expected the sharp pain across his cheek as she slapped him.

Brooke ran as far as she possibly could; which in the end led her out onto her front pathway before he caught up and grabbed onto her arm. She couldn't believe everything he had just said. His eyes were full of hurt after she had hit him, but she just couldn't understand why. Did he not realise what his little speech meant to her? Even she didn't really know. All she could gather was that her heart had simply never hurt this much before.

She felt him forcefully pull her to face him with his strong eyes and she desperately tried to avoid looking into his eyes. She hadn't known him for long, yet already every time she stared into his eyes she could feel herself sinking; sinking into him and sinking out of control. She felt she couldn't resist though when he pulled her chin up to face him. He was still confused and she couldn't believe how thoughtless he was. She was hurting and all he could do was stand there.

"Brooke, what the hell was that back there?" He said it softly, but she couldn't bear how calmly he was regarding the situation. She was anything but calm.

"You mean, you honestly have no idea of how I'm feeling right now? You're so totally clueless that you don't realise how much my heart is hurting? You forgot about me Luke. However much you try to twist that around, you're not going to be able to. You managed to look at her and every image of me vanished - do you not realise how that makes me feel? Your dreams are filled with Peyton, how the hell could I ever compete? Then you go and really stick the knife in don't you, not that I'm not bleeding over the floor enough already?"

"Br-" He tried to interrupt, but she gestured for him to stop.

"No. Please Lucas, let me finish this," And with a deep breath, she did. "She kissed you, and I'm the better kisser, that's what you said. Is that what you mean, you're in this because I'm the better shag? Because if you are, if… if you are, I just don't think I'd be able to take it."

The silences kept on coming for the two of them, yet they weren't getting any easier. His arms limply dropped from her sides as he looked to the floor. She could hardly make out his next words, he mumbled them so incoherently.

"I didn't know you cared." When she had registered what he had said, the tears burned stronger in the back of her eyes.

"So you mean to say I'm a slut? That I'm someone who can't feel, can't care for someone else?" He just kept digging himself into a bigger hole and couldn't get out of it. She was getting more and more hysterical as the seconds went by, until the normally poised Brooke Davis was anything but.

"That's not what I meant and I think you know that." She gazed up at him, and the tears seemed to stop almost immediately, leaving a glint in her eyes where the tears were being held; not ready to fall, yet not ready to disappear either.

"How do I know that Luke? How do I even know you?" He looked at her; for the first time he properly looked at her and all he saw was a little girl. She was just a little girl, trying to look after her heart, desperate to find out who she could trust. She definitely wasn't the girl he had thought a few months ago. There was so much more to the beautiful girl in front of him than anyone could ever imagine. Luke wanted to be able to find out more; he wanted to be the guy who could say he knew Brooke Davis, inside and out.

"You don't. But that doesn't mean that we can't try. I want this to work. You and me."

"But it's never that simple Lucas! What happens when one day you wake up and decide you want to be with Peyton, or someone else?"

"I chose you, Brooke. I chose you."

It was at that point that she realised something. She had no answers back; she had nothing to fight against. She might as well let herself go because she knew now that holding back would only hurt herself more. He had put her first. She had never known anyone to do that before. It had to mean something.

Without thinking, she placed one arm firmly around his neck and with no further doubts, she pulled his head down to hers, crashing their lips together. Once he awakened to what she was doing, he started to react, pressing himself closer to her and wrapping one arm around her back, the other behind her head. Gently, he prised his tongue into her mouth, and as the time continued, the kiss became more heated. She smiled into him, and realised that this was the first time that a kiss had ever made her so happy. They pulled apart, their hearts pulling slightly, even after such a short period of time.

He led her up to her bedroom and lay on her bed. There was no suggestion of sex; comfort was all that they needed. Before succumbing next to him, she had an idea. Leaning over, she picked up the garment and slipped it over her head. There she was, once again, in his grey hoody. It was a part of him she didn't want to let go; the scent, the touch… it all led back to him.

She snuggled into his arm and felt a greater sense of peace than she could ever remember. She couldn't believe that she had given in so easily: to his excuses, his arms, to him. But it had all seemed so natural. Maybe they were meant to be together. Maybe it was all a sign that he had picked her and not Peyton. Maybe it would all be okay.

Because he'd considered the options. He had made the choice on his own, and it was all out of his own free will. There had been no pressure from either of the girls.

And he had chosen her.

-

_Well thanks so much for reading to the end of this! I hope you liked it :S_

_Please tell me if you enjoyed or not, because then I can improve my oneshots for next time :D_

_Hannie x_


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